


All Hallows Eve at Malfy Manor

by MelodyLepetit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Master/Slave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 19:48:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8460724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodyLepetit/pseuds/MelodyLepetit
Summary: Harry Potter died defeating Voldemort and Darkness reigns in Wizarding Britain. Hermione was sold at auction to none other than Lucius Malfoy. This is the tale of preparing for the annual Halloween Ball.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this by the Trick or Treat event over on The Death Eater Express Facebook group. I was a bit late getting started and so missed the event. 
> 
>  
> 
> Many thanks to the lovely and wonderful AdelaideArcher and HikoriChan for beta reading this for me and encouraging me to write and post it. 
> 
> Disclaimer! I own nothing...it all belongs to J.K. Rowling et al and I just play with them and promise to return them when I'm done.

_Two years after the fall of the Dark Lord_

 

Daisy popped into Missy Hermione’s room and prodded her awake gently. “I is sorry to be disturbing your rest, but Master’s ball will be starting in an hour,” squeaked the greenish gray House-Elf. “You is needing Daisy’s help to be getting ready on time.”

 

Hermione Granger cracked open her bleary eyes upon hearing Daisy’s familiar voice. She slowly sat up and swung her legs off the narrow bed upon which she had been resting. The night ahead promised to be long and tiring so an afternoon nap had been just what she needed. 

 

“I think something emerald green would please our Master, Daisy,” Hermione requested as she rose from the bed. She moved swiftly towards the shower near the other side of the room. Stepping under it, the cold water removed the last vestiges of sleep from her body. Slowly she warmed the temperature and then soaped her skin. Stepping from the shower she stood before a mirror that she knew was charmed to show her reflection to Lucius Malfoy should he desire to see it. 

 

Hermione stood in front of the cheval mirror in her small cramped quarters in Malfoy Manor and felt the memories flood her mind. She was, for all intents and purposes, a slave as much as the House-elf was, to the whim of the Lord of the Manor. Lucius had risen high in this new world. The Dark Lord may have fallen, but he took the Light’s hero with him and without a rallying point the Dark had taken power and kept it for all these long years.

 

The feel of elf magic washing over her skin brought Hermione out of her woolgathering. She gasped in delight as she saw Daisy crafting a gown out of what appeared to be emerald green smoke. Not at all the same as her own imaginings, this gown was low cut in the front showing the swells of her breasts, and the back was laced like a corset only there was no constriction on Hermione’s breathing. The elf knew what the Master liked to see Missy Hermione wearing and was doing her best to ensure that Hermione was pleasing to the eye.

 

Once she was swathed in the satin and tulle of the beautiful gown Daisy had crafted, black heels magicked themselves onto her feet and she picked up a black and emerald mask from the table near the door. 

 

“Thank you, Daisy, for your help,” she whispered as she swept out of the room and down the hall towards Lucius’s study.

*****

Lucius Malfoy stood up from his large mahogany desk when he saw through the charmed mirror his Hermione leaving her bedroom. He paced the floor in front of the hearth waiting for her.

 

Hermione knocked softly on the door to his study. She was not allowed to enter it without being given express permission. “Enter,” he called. She stepped softly through the door and closed it tightly behind her. 

 

“You have need of me tonight,” Hermione said softly, “for the Ball?” It was tradition over the past years that Hermione was on Lucius Malfoy’s arm when the annual All Hallow’s Eve Ball was held at Malfoy Manor. Narcissa was displeased with this arrangement, but held her tongue as men held all the power in these Dark times. Women were simply tools to be used for the enjoyment of men. 

 

Narcissa was his wife and had already provided an heir. Lucius had little use for her, but Hermione had learned early never to assume anything. Her lover, owner, and the master of the Manor was if anything a mercurial man. He paid a rich sum for her when the Mudbloods were being auctioned to the highest bidder at the end of the war. It had been something of a coup for him to get her for his very own. 

 

“Of course my dear,” his silky voiced washed over her. “You will attend the ball as always on my arm. Turn now and let us see what magic the elves have created for you this year.” He beckoned her further into the room and she went obediently and stood in the open space turning slowly in a circle before facing him again. “What have you underneath that beautiful frock, pet?” The question was soft, but Hermione knew the wrong answer could have devastating consequences.

 

Eyes down cast, fixed somewhere around Lucius’ knees, she softly whispered, “Nothing.” 

 

“Come here, pet, and let me make sure you are being truthful,” he commanded. She went to him, conditioned from years of obeying his every command and desire.

 

Dipping one long pale finger into her cleavage he said “well it is clear that there is nothing here except the dress crafted by my elves,” he dragged his fingers down her arm and pulled her back to his front. “I must also check,” his hands pushed through the magic of her skirt and parted her thighs, “here,” he finished as his fingers found her centre uncovered by any cloth save the elf-wrought skirt. “That is truly delightful my dear,” his words ghosted softly over her ear. “I see the elves have finally worked out that last tricky bit enabling me to touch you as though their dress was no obstacle. My hands glide right through the fabric.” 

 

“I—uh... I helped them sir,” Hermione answered, blushing red from her cheeks to the tops of her breasts.

 

“Did you?” She could hear the smirk in his voice even though she was still pressed against his chest. “How did you manage that, my pet?” Anxious for recognition and credit and to prove herself worthy, she launched into a breathless tale.

 

“Well, after the midsummer’s gown debacle—all those galleons wasted on a gown just to be torn to shreds—I discovered that the House-elves could create the illusion of fabric. It feels like fabric to the touch and looks like fabric to the eye. If anyone besides the one to whom the elf is bound touches the fabric it will appear real. Even to me it feels like a real dress because I am not Daisy’s Mistress even though she serves me. However, I discovered that House-elves automatically allow their Masters to pass straight through their magic and therefore the illusion of a dress. So you see, I’m not actually wearing a stitch of fabric, it is all elf-wrought magic that appears to be a gorgeous ball gown.” Hermione felt quite pleased with herself when she felt the evidence of Lucius’s approval pressing into her bum.

 

Lucius was caught unaware by the feeling of awe that spread through his chest at her words. She had discovered a new aspect of House-elf magic in just a few short months, all so that she could stop him ripping expensive clothing from her body and therefore saving him several hundred galleons a year. He was in awe of her, which was a strange feeling as she was inferior to him in every way, yet her intelligence knew no bounds.

 

“Bend over my desk.” His tone left no room for interpretation, and she scurried towards his desk and bent over it, her arse in the air and her hands wrapped around the other side. 

 

Hermione heard his belt unbuckle and knew what was coming. The zip of his fly was next and then she felt him, hard and hot behind her, hands gripping her hips. The heat of his flesh on hers was intense. Her intelligence always drove him into a frenzy, made him need to re-establish dominance over her. 

 

Lucius kicked her legs apart and fisted his long shaft in his left hand. With his right he spread her moist lips and whispered a lubrication spell before running his thumb from her opening down to her clit and pressing firmly. 

 

A moan fell unbidden from Hermione’s lips; she loved it when he lost control and took her with little warning. It was proof that even though he treated her as little better than a house-elf, his emotions warred with his sense of what was right.

 

Her moan undid him; he had to have her, to hear those sounds coming from her because of his cock pounding into her. He lined up at her opening and thrust home with a very un-Malfoyish grunt. Her tight walls encased him and hugged him; the feeling of artificial lubrication wore off as her own arousal woke and juices started to flow as he pulled back and thrust into her again. 

 

Her heels made her just tall enough to be the perfect height for this desk and his cock slid into her and back out with little resistance. The angle was perfect. He loved fucking his little Mudblood. She was his; he owned her and every single moan coming from her imperfect lips was caused by him. Oh yes, tonight he’d share her with a select few, and he’d enjoy watching her on her knees before others and getting all of her holes filled at once, but for now as he pistoned in and out of her searching for his own release, she was his and he loved it.

 

Lucius fisted his hands in Hermione’s hair and pulled her back onto his cock over and over again. “Who do you belong to?” he demanded, pulling harder so her back arched and her breasts pressed into his blotter. 

 

“Y-y-YOU,” she screamed as her pussy contracted around him, trying to milk him dry, but he rode her out and kept pistoning into her. It was a deliciously strange feeling seeing his cock disappear through her skirts and feel it in her pussy. As he withdrew, there was starting to be a darker spot of moisture on the fabric where his glistening cock stroked the folds of tulle. 

 

It was that final reminder of how brilliant she was, combined with her still quivering pussy that finally drove him over the edge. He thrust into her hard one last time and emptied himself inside of her, then collapsed on her back panting and sweating slightly. 

 

“What is the name of your house-elf, pet?” he queried through his panting breaths.

 

“Daisy!” Hermione called and Daisy popped into the Master’s study almost silently.

 

Lucius looked at the elf and then pushed himself off Hermione. “Set Miss Hermione to rights, but leave the scent of sex about her. I want to entice my guests,” he commanded the elf before striding off into the bathroom attached to his study to summon his own elf and make himself presentable.

 

“Missy Hermione, Daisy is needing you to stand up now.” The elf wrung her hands when Hermione made no attempt at movement. “Missy Hermione, we is both being in trouble if you don’t allow Daisy to clean you up.” 

 

Grumbling and sore in a delicious way, Hermione pushed up from the desk. “Make sure that the wet spot on the back of the skirt is removed, Daisy,” was the only thing Hermione said to the elf as she stood in the centre of Lucius Malfoy’s study. 

 

Lucius came out of the loo a few moments later and held out his arm. “Shall we go and greet our guests?” he asked, and led her from the study to the ballroom.

**FIN**


End file.
